


The Prince and The Stallion

by Mike_White



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Incest, M/M, Multi, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-06 21:03:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13419600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mike_White/pseuds/Mike_White
Summary: Jon and Daenerys took the Iron Throne and gave birth to the Prince that was promised. At the time of the Prince's birth, the Night King retreated back north of the Wall to hide his army from the dragon glass weapons, giving Men the chance to rebuild the Wall.It's been 16 years and the army of the dead has never been seen again, but Winter won't let Men rest. The Night King will be back with his army, and he'll be stronger.A series of events and discoveries bring Stiles and Derek together. And they hope to bring the dawn.NOTE: This story is a crossover of characters from Game of Thrones and Teen Wolf in the world of Game of Thrones. As the story advances I will be adding more characters and ships to the tags. Never hesitate to message me or leave a comment about what you'd like to happen next on this FanFic.





	1. The truth is found

 

He sat by the fireplace and looked out through the window and into the sky. He did it often. It helped him think, especially when his brain worked too fast to allow him to sleep. He heard steps and suddenly there was someone knocking at the door. Stiles stood up and stared at the door. Someone visiting him at this hour? It couldn't be good.

"Come in", Stiles invited.

The door opened and Melisandre, the red priestess, came in.

"My prince. Queen Daenerys summons you with urgency."

Stiles froze. What could've happened?

Without another word, Stiles rushed passed Melisandre and walked the corridors of the Red Keep at a fast pace. It was dark, only a dim light from the candles Melisandre carried as she followed the Prince. Not that Stiles needed much light - he knew the castle better than he knew his own face.

He finally reached the throne room and saw both his mother and father. Jon sat at the Iron Throne and Daenerys sat on a similar throne that had been made for her when Jon and her had taken the throne from Cersei Lannister. Both the king and queen stood up to welcome their son and the red priestess. 

"What happened?", Stiles asked with his expressions dominated by worry. 

There was a moment of silence that only made Stiles fear for worse.

"Rhaegal flew off by nightfall yesterday", Jon told his son.

"And we only know this now? How long has it been?", Stiles asked confused.

"It's been about six hours now", Jon answered.

"Why did Rhaegal fly off on its own? Where to?", Stiles didn't understand how or why a dragon would've gotten off without its rider. In this case, Jon.

"We don't know. This didn't happen for years and years. Drogon gave me a hard time when they were still young. Flew away for days, weeks, months at a time. But Rhaegal is a grown dragon and he never did this", Daenerys intervened to explain.

"Is Drogon still around?", Stiles asked his mother.

"Yes. Drogon hasn't left", Daenerys nodded.

"Not yet, anyway", Jon added. 

"What are we planning to do?", Stiles asked. "We were already vulnerable with two dragons. Now we've got one. What if the Night King comes south with Viserion?", Stiles asked.

"The Night King has stayed north of the wall since you were born. We can only hope he'll stay there until we find Rhaegal", Jon tried to make Stiles feel safer. 

"You have nothing to fear, my Prince. The Prince that was promised--", Melisandre was interrupted.

"Will bring the dawn", Stiles finished. "I've heard your prophecy thousands of times in my life. Winter is already 16 years long and the Long Night has yet to come", he added with frustration. He felt useless no matter how many times Melisandre and his parents assured him he'd be safe. The truth was the Night King could come at any moment and when the time came, Stiles' life would be at stake. And how could he defeat an army of White Walkers when he had nothing. Nothing.

"Your father has suggested I visit Bran and ask for his help", Daenerys said gently.

"The three-eyed-raven?", Stiles asked. Daenerys nodded.

"He might be able to help us track Rhaegal's moves even if with some delay. It'll be more than we know right now", Jon argued.

There was another moment of silence. 

"Will you come with me, Stiles?", Daenerys asked. "We'll fly north with Drogon and we'll be back within less than a day", she promised.

"It'll be good for you to get out of the Red Keep for a bit", Jon encouraged. 

Stiles held his breath. He could barely remember the last time he had gotten to fly on top of a dragon. And it was true. He was always in the Red Keep. It's been months since he even walked the streets of King's Landing. "I'll go", Stiles nodded. "The sooner we find Rhaegal the better", he agreed. 

Jon and Daenerys smiled. 

 

***

 

Daenerys waited for Stiles, dressed in thick robes of white and caramel - she still mourned the death of Viserion to this day -  to protect her from the snow and cold wind. Stiles came dressed with robes just as thick, but in tones of black and grey, as if inspired by ash and coal. "You ready?", Daenerys asked with a warm smile.

Stiles nodded and Daenerys guided the way out of the Red Keep, both of them followed and escorted by the King's Guard until they reached the new Dragon Pit. A massive structure twice as big as the original Dragon Pit. Built of melted stone and formed like a bubble with three different exits big enough for Drogon and Rhaegal to come in and out with no struggle. Daenerys entered with Stiles, leaving the King's Guard outside by one of the entrances. There was a big fire at the center that kept Drogon warm. 

The red dragon slept, bigger than ever. "Drogon", Daenerys cooed gently. 

The dragon opened his eyes and looked around in search of Rhaegal. But found Daenerys and Stiles instead. Stiles took a deep breath and extended his hand towards Drogon's nostrils. Drogon sniffed Stiles' hand and greeted him with a groan that no longer scared the Prince. Moments like this made Stiles dream of a dragon of his own. But that day would likely never come, as a dragon only accepted one rider in its lifetime. And Drogon was Daenerys' and Rhaegal was Jon's. 

Daenerys climbed on Drogon's back and looked down at her son. She knew dragons mesmerized him even more than most people. "Come", she encouraged. And so Stiles climbed on Drogon too. "You still remember how", Daenerys smiled. "I wouldn't forget even if I wanted to", Stiles couldn't help the smile that formed on his face. 

Drogon leaned up and crawled his way out of the Dragon Pit, increasing his speed once his snout reached the cold air and spreading his wings to fly north.

 

***

 

"I'm glad to see you", Sansa greeted Daenerys before she turned to Stiles. "Look at you, you're huge! Do you still remember me? When's the last time we saw each other?"

"It's been about five years, I think", Daenerys thought out loud. 

"I remember you", Stiles chuckled. "I just don't remember Winterfell", he admitted. 

Sansa had visited them at King's Landing five years ago. But Stiles hadn't come to Winterfell since he was nice years old. 

"You're a man already", Sansa teased.

"I'm only 16", Stiles argued. He often refused to feel as old as people portrayed him to be. The older he got the more pressure he felt. The older he got the more desperate his people were for him to fulfill the prophecy. A prophecy he had only learned to fear, because he had no clue how to defeat an ice king on top of an undead dragon.

"We need to speak to Bran", Daenerys added on a more urgent note. 

Sansa nodded. "He's where he's always been for the past 16 years", she sighed and led the way to the sacred tree. "There's a burrow behind the tree. He's down by the roots", Sansa explained. 

Daenerys and Stiles nodded and went down to Bran's chamber. It was dark and cold, but at least the wind and snow didn't blow on their faces. 

"You finally arrived", Bran's voice echoed from the roots of the tree.

"Finally?", Stiles asked with confusion as he turned to see the man in a black robe and wrapped in roots. How long he must've been down here for roots to grow around him.

"He saw us coming", Daenerys told Stiles.

"I check on all of you on an hourly basis", Bran explained.

"It would do you good to find a hobby, you know?", Stiles asked before his mother threw a look at him and he curled his lips apologetically. 

"We need your help to find Rhaegal", Daenerys asked softly. "He flew away yesterday by nightfall and we don't understand why or where to."

"That is strange indeed. Perhaps I should start checking on the dragons more frequently too", Bran thought out loud. 

Stiles looked at Daenerys almost begging for this to go quick. She only smiled patiently. 

"This might take a bit", Bran warned before he leaned back and his eyes turned white.

 

***

 

Bran stood by the Dragon Pit as the sun was setting and walked in. Drogon slept by the fire at the center. Rhaegal on the other hand seemed agitated, rubbing his snout on the stone floor and grunting. Bran walked closer and petted Rhaegal's snout but the dragon couldn't feel him. Still as if reacting to his touch, the green dragon stood up and Bran climbed on top of him. Rhaegal crawled out of the Dragon Pit and flew East. 

Bran rode the memory of Rhaegal until the dragon came down on a land he recognized. Valyria. Stone buildings brought down and abandoned for so long, trees and vines had grown over them. Bran got off the dragon's back just in time to watch him spit fire on the hill ahead. Dirt and rock were pushed by the fire as it reached deeper into more solid stone. But it didn't remain solid for long, as the dragon's fire melted a large hole into it. Bran knew he couldn't be hurt by the fire of a past memory, yet the sight in front of him was so intense he stepped back to watch from afar. 

For a while the three-eyed-raven watched Rhaegal build a den under the hill until it was large enough for the dragon to hide inside. Bran didn't follow. He was, for the first time in too long, surprised and mesmerized. And scared. He didn't know what to expect of this, he still didn't understand why Rhaegal had flown so far to build a den. If that's what it was. 

Bran stood there, waiting and watching. But he eventually gave up waiting. Rhaegal didn't seem to be coming back out any time soon.

He slowly walked into the den and followed the sound of the dragon's breathing, quickly reaching a bigger chamber carved into the melted stone. Rhaegal lied in the middle, curled in on itself. Bran dared walking closer. "You're dying", Bran realized.

Rhaegal started breathing slower and curled in on itself even more, hiding his snout under his left wing. There was no other sound. Rhaegal's heart stopped beating, making Drogon the last dragon alive.

Bran swallowed thickly and walked closer, as if searching for any sign that Rhaegal might've started breathing again. Instead, he saw a curved shape of scales under the tent of Rhaegal's wing. Moving even closer, Bran saw it. Two of them. Two dragon eggs.

Rhaegal was a female dragon.

 

***

 

Daenerys' eyes pooled with tears, a weight on her chest making her want to sob. But her throat closed in pain. "Are you certain?"

Bran nodded. "Rhaegal flew away to lay her eggs before she died."

"Two of them, you say?", Stiles asked. And Bran nodded again.

Daenerys rubbed her eyes and turned to Stiles. "Will you please let me speak to Bran for a moment?"

Stiles frowned but he figured arguing would only be a waste of time. So he nodded and exited the burrow.

"Do you know what I'm gonna ask you?", Daenerys asked as she slowly recomposed herself.

"I suspect", the three-eyed-raven admitted. "But even I can't read minds", he told the Targaryen Queen. "What is it you need to know?"

Daenerys had been through a lot in her life. And somehow she had managed to be strong and overcome her obstacles and heal from most wounds. Yet there was one thing that burdened her to this day. One loose end of her past she hoped Bran could help her solve.

 

***

 

Stiles entered the throne room followed by Daenerys. Jon stood up from the Iron Throne. 

"Mom's been silent ever since we left Winterfell", Stiles grumbled with a mixture of anger and confusion and worry. 

Jon turned to his wife and hoped for a word from her. Nothing.

"Where is Rhaegal? What did Bran say?", Jon insisted. 

There was a moment of silence. Daenerys wasn't ready to speak just yet. 

"Rhaegal flew to Valyria to lay eggs. Rhaegal was a female dragon", Stiles blurted out with no filter.

"Was?", Jon swallowed. 

Another moment of silence. This time neither Daenerys not Stiles had to speak for Jon to understand what they meant. The green dragon had died. Jon felt the weight of Rhaegal's death. He might have not raised the dragon, but he had loved it with all his might.

"Mom still talked to Bran after he told us about Rhaegal", Stiles revealed. "She hasn't said a word since."

Jon turned back to Daenerys. He had a strong guess about what she might have asked Bran. For the past two years, few were the nights the Queen didn't speak about it in her sleep. Jon figured it would only be a matter of time before she wanted Bran's help. And this had likely been the excuse Daenerys needed to go. Not that Jon blamed her. He understood. And whatever answer she found, he only hoped his wife would find peace in it.

The King put his arms around Daenerys and kissed her forehead. "It's okay, Dany", he promised.

Stiles frowned again. He usually felt on board with whatever his parents discussed, but not today. 

"Did you ask Bran?", Jon asked. Daenerys nodded against his chest. 

"It's okay", Jon promised again. 

Daenerys smiled and tears rolled down her cheek before she looked up at Jon. "He's alive, Jon. He's alive..."

Jon frowned much like Stiles and looked at her in disbelief. 

"He wasn't born a monster. The witch used magic to conceal him from me. She lied", Daenerys kept on crying but her tears were of joy. Her smile was filled with wonder and love. 

"Your son with Drogo?", Jon swallowed. "Rhaego? He's alive?", the King asked.

Daenerys nodded. "I asked Bran. He searched and saw his life from birth until now", the blonde explained. "He's alive, Jon. The witch lied and sent him away!"

"Where is he?"

"He was raised Dothraki, Jon. He was raised with another name." Daenerys' smile grew wider and her tears ran thicker. "Khal Derek."


	2. Decisions

Daenerys kissed Jon's lips and wiped the tears off her face. "I don't love Drogo anymore. I haven't for so many years", she promised. "It's just my son. Rhae- Derek", the Targaryen told her husband and King.

Jon nodded and caressed Daenerys' arm. "I know. I don't doubt your feelings for me. If your son is out there, I cannot and would not ask you to feel nothing."

Stiles had heard about Rhaego a few times at least. But until now he had been only a shadow in his life. Now it was like he started to gain an actual shape.

"We must find him, Jon. He doesn't even know who he is", Daenerys pointed out.

"We can't just leave Westeros. It's too risky to leave the country unprotected with no dragon. We've already lost Rhaegal", Jon argued. "And he knows who he is. Having a different name won't change his identity."

"You know what I mean, Jon", Daenerys sighed and sat at the throne. She felt emotionally exhausted. The loss of Rhaegal and finding out her oldest son was still alive was too much for one day.

Tyrion came into the room. His hair and beard were starting to turn grey. "Is it true?"

Daenerys nodded and Tyrion turned to Stiles. "What's the plan?"

"Don't ask me. It's not like I have much of a say in the matter", Stiles grumbled. And Jon and Daenerys turned to their son with worry. "Don't look at me like that. You know it's true. All my life I've been told everything's gonna be fine because I'm the prince that was promised, yada yada yada. But what do I do!!?", he felt his blood heat up with frustration. 

"You do have a say in the matter", Jon promised. "I've tried too hard to shield you from everything. And maybe that hasn't had the exact effect I hoped it would. I'm sorry."

Stiles turned to his father and sighed. He couldn't be mad at him, really. He knew both his parents did everything they could, as best as they could. 

"A Targaryen alone in the world", Daenerys thought out loud. She knew too well how it felt to think she was alone. Even if Derek didn't know he was a Targaryen, he was one and that's what mattered. "All I ask is that we don't leave Derek in the dark."

"You know if he's built his life as a Khal, there's little chance he'll even want to hear your story, right?", Jon asked as softly as he could manage with the subject.

Daenerys clenched her jaw. "He'll know the truth, at least. I can't accept that my son is out there, believing his mother abandoned him."

"You don't even know if that's what he's been told by whoever raised him", Tyrion pointed out.

"What else do you reckon he's been told?? He was taken from me by a witch and given away by the same witch! Whoever raised him either truly believes I abandoned him or they were told that's what happened", Daenerys huffed angrily. 

Melisandre joined the group of discussion and stood next to Stiles. She always seemed overly protective about him. She was still holding on to her faith and prophecies more than ever. Stiles was the living vessel of her faith. The Prince that was promised.

"If I do have a say in the matter", Stiles intervened. "I can't say much about this Derek. But I think you're all neglecting the fact that Rhaegal laid two eggs", he pointed out. "Rhaegal died and that leaves us with Drogon. I'm not saying Drogon isn't a good enough dragon. I'm just saying-- If you hadn't been given three dragon eggs when you married Khal Drogo, you probably would've never gotten the chance to leave Essos and dragons would still be extinct. Without you, those three eggs would've stayed petrified and they'd be as useful as rocks."

"What are you suggesting?", Jon asked.

"I'm suggesting we get these dragon eggs, no matter what you decide about Derek. The eggs need to be found", Stiles said firmly.

"We can't leave Westeros. Only your mother can ride Drogon and I'm king and I can't leave the country", Jon added with heaviness to his voice. 

"I'm not asking either of you to get the eggs. I'm suggesting I go", Stiles answered.

"No!"

"You can't!"

"My Prince. Your duty is with this country", Melisandre insisted.

"What duty do you expect me to fulfill as of right now?", Stiles was angry again. It's like years of it had built up, and little by little it came to the surface without him even realizing. "I have no dragon of my own, I have no special talent with the sword. The Night King could attack today and I wouldn't be able to do nothing except watch or die. Or both", he argued. "If I can get these dragon eggs and hatch them, at least we'll have more dragons."

"Baby dragons", Tyrion noted. 

"Dragons nonetheless", Daenerys countered.

Silence followed. They could blame it on the cold winter, but the truth was there was too much at stake. And no one could make a final decision without heavy shoulders and a brain frozen with uncertainty of what the best path would be.

"We need to think this through. Sending you off to Essos without a plan is not a good idea", Tyrion said.

"With all respect, Tyrion. The stories I've heard leave a bit of doubt when it comes to your plans and their efficacy", Stiles tried to be polite. "When's the last time either of you made a plan before you found yourselves fighting for what you wanted?", the Prince turned to his parents. "Mom. Dad. Please. Drogon cannot be the last living dragon. Dragons have gone extinct before. I refuse to let it happen again!"

"So you want to get the eggs", Jon repeated as if to convince himself. "And on the way you want to find Derek to give your mother some peace of mind?"

Stiles nodded.

"Who's to say Derek doesn't just kill you when you find him?", Tyrion asked.

"Melisandre can come with me. She can bring me back like she did with you years ago", Stiles argued as he looked at his father.

"No!", Jon didn't need to think about what to answer to that. 

"Stiles, we're not making sport of your death. You're my son too! I'm not letting one son of mine die in search for the other", Daenerys shook her head.

"Derek can die in a battle today before I even leave Westeros. I can die tomorrow if the Night King attacks. Life is always on the verge of death. You can't protect me from that. Not in Essos, not in Westeros", Stiles argued. 

Jon and Daenerys looked at each other. "He's got that stubborn attitude from you", Daenerys said. 

"You're stubborn too!", Jon argued almost in a playful display of shock. He took a deep breath. "Leave the three of us to talk", Jon asked. 

Tyrion and Melisandre nodded and exited the throne room.

"I know you're gonna go even if we try to talk you out of it", Jon told Stiles. "The least I can ask you is please don't go on your own. You barely know Westeros. You know nothing of Essos", he pointed out. "Let us send others to help you on your way", the King asked.

"Fine. I'm okay with that. As long as you let me get the eggs. And before I come back I'll find Derek", Stiles promised.

Daenerys wasn't completely sure. Watching her son go with no certainty that he'd make it back, or even accomplish what he wanted. She could lose him for nothing, and she couldn't accept that. "If you get in trouble, I'll come and get you", Daenerys promised. That's the least she could contribute to her son's safety. 

"Deal", Stiles agreed. "Who are you sending to come with me?"

 

***

 

Stiles walked down the stairs to the beach, followed by the King's Guard and Melisandre. As he stepped foot on the sand, he felt the bits of ice and snow mixed with it. He had already been born in Winter, and he had no experience with summer himself. From what his parents had told him, summer was the best. He wanted so bad to experience summer. For all sorts of reasons. And as far as he'd heard, Winter hadn't reached Essos the same way it had Westeros. That only made him more excited for the expedition, if he could call it that.

Jon and Daenerys waited by the water and greeted Stiles again with wide smiles. Their smiles were certainly the warmest thing around. It was freezing! For once it wasn't snowing, but the wind was icy and the clouds were dark. 

Daenerys stepped towards him and put her hands on Stiles'. "I had this made. For you and Derek", she said before he gave him two pins. Each a dragon carved out of dragon glass. "Keep one and give the other to Derek, will you?"

Stiles nodded and wrapped his arms around his mother for a hug. Part of did was aware he could die in Essos, but the risk was worth it for all sorts of reasons. 

"Send ravens as often as you can, okay? Your mom and I will be thinking of you everyday", Jon promised. "I'll also ask Bran to keep an eye on you."

"I don't think you need to ask him. He's a creep", Stiles joked. 

"Don't lose your sense of humor on this journey. We'll need it back", Jon chuckled and hugged his son.

"I promise", Stiles smiled and hugged back before he turned to Daenerys again. "Is there... anything in particular you want me to tell Derek?"

"Tell him it wasn't my fault he was taken from me at birth", Daenerys swallowed thickly. "Tell him... Tell him I refuse to die without meeting him."

"I'll... try not to scare him away", Stiles joked to lighten the mood but he intended on letting Derek know. 

Daenerys shook her head with a softer smile and let him go. "Tyrion and Varys are waiting for you on the ship."

"You're sending Varys with us too?", Stiles asked in surprise.

"You're important. This journey is important. We want the best of the best to come with you", Daenerys smiled and stepped back.

Stiles nodded and got on the boat that would take him and Melisandre to meet the others at the ship ahead. Four men paddled, and Stiles watched the Red Keep get smaller and smaller. 

 


	3. All dragons must die too

"How long until we get there?", Stiles asked impatiently after they had been at sea for days.

"We should get there today, my Prince", Melisandre promised.

"Good. I don't want to risk anyone coming across Rhaegal's den by accident and stealing the eggs", the boy added.

Tyrion finished his cup of wine. "That's unlikely. Even Essos doesn't have anyone foolish enough to follow a grown dragon if they saw it flying this way", the dwarf pointed out as he poured himself another glass.

"At the rate you're drinking you're gonna be seeing four eggs instead of two", Stiles countered with a frown. "If you even try to tell me there's more than two eggs I'll punch you in the face", Stiles teased.

Tyrion tilted his head and raised his glass. "More dragon eggs wouldn't do any harm."

"Bran saw two. As much as I like the idea of more dragons, I can't handle more than two. My mother had enough trouble with three", Stiles commented as he scratched his chest over his thick winter robes. "Is it just me or is it getting warmer?"

"This winter only lasted five years in Essos. The long winter in Westeros is most likely because of the Night King", Tyrion told the Prince. "As we get closer to Essos and Valyria it gets warmer. Welcome to your first experience of summer", Tyrion raised his glass.

 

***

 

Stiles changed into summer clothes. The first he'd ever worn. It felt lighter, easier to move, allowed him to feel the warm air against his skin. For the first time in his life he wore clothes made of thin fabric, his arms showed. And he no longer needed extra layers around his feet and legs to protect him from the cold snow. 

"I thought I'd never live a day of summer", Stiles murmured to himself in his chambers. A bell rang and quickly enough he heard a knock at his door. "Come in."

"Valyria", Tyrion announced.

Stiles felt his heart pump faster with excitement. He exited his chambers and rushed up the stairs to the upper level of the ship. The air was even warmer than earlier. The sun was bright and the sky was clean. For the first time in his life he could look up to the sky and see no grey clouds. Looking ahead, trees and tumbled walls of stone. 

The crew took him and the others to the land. 

As he stepped foot on the sand, Stiles expected to feel a certain nostalgia about the land he'd never visited before. And sure enough, he felt as if he was looking at all the lives he had never lived, the faces he had never seen. The people of Old Valyria who had died with the Doom. His ancestors and hundreds of dragons reduced to nothing.

"Let's find the eggs", Stiles ordered.

"Your Grace", Tyrion stepped in front of Stiles and urged him to wait. "I've been here before", the dwarf noted. "When Jorah Mormont was taking me to Meereen to present me to your mother, we sailed through Valyria's river and we were attacked by stone men. Although it's been years, it's possible stone men still lurk in the area."

Stiles looked around and then at the crew of fifteen men. "We'll take five men with us then. The remaining ten men will separate in pairs."

 

***

 

They must have searched for hours. Valyria wasn't as small as Stiles had expected, and the tumbled walls and thick vines didn't help them move through the territory in search of Rhaegal's den. There were no signs of stone men though, thankfully. Eventually they had been called. The men had found the den.

The men guarded the den's entrance and saw their Prince emerge from the bushes, followed by Tyrion, Melisandre and Varys. Stiles stopped by the entrance, as if preparing himself. He knew what was inside, he just didn't know how he would feel once he saw it. 

"Your Grace?", Varys broke the silence.

Stiles turned to him and smiled softly. "Let me go in alone. I'll call you if I need any help", he promised and they bowed in agreement.

The Prince took a deep breath and ventured into the dragon's den with only a torch in his hand. It started with a long tunnel that lead him down. Rhaegal must have wanted to secure the den deep in the ground. But it didn't take him too long to reach a bigger chamber. He barely noticed the size of it though. Because his eyes were quickly glued to the huge dragon curled at the center. 

Stiles swallowed thickly. Rhaegal was massive. And dead. He'd known the dragon all his life, yet had to die for him to even know the dragon was female. Stiles had grown with the privilege of dealing with both Rhaegal and Drogon. And he had always found Rhaegal to be gentler. Allowed Stiles to play with her ever since he was young. Drogon had too, but Drogon had always been more moody and unstable. Rhaegal had particular patience when young Stiles used to invade her nostrils with his tiny hands, thinking he'd find treasure. Or when he'd step on her tail by accident. His eyes pooled with tears and he knelt in front of the dragon's snout. 

A beast so strong and mighty. Fire made flesh as Melisandre always referred to dragons. So powerful. Yet dead. All men must die. And it seemed even dragons were vulnerable. Even if it wasn't an icy spear to the chest or a giant arrow through the skull. Like men, it seemed all dragons must die too.

"I will take care of them, Rhaegal. I promise", he smiled, wetness rolled down his cheeks as he caressed Rhaegal's dead body. 

He sniffled and wiped his tears with his hand. Stiles dropped the torch on the stone floor and reached under Rhaegal's wing, pulling two scaly eggs. They were smaller than he had imagined. But the value he put in these eggs wasn't measurable by their size. "I will protect them", he promised before he turned around and walked out of the den holding both eggs. One under each arm.

Everyone stared as the Prince exited the dark den. He stopped to look back at them. It was evident he had cried, but no one blamed him for it. Especially because despite his red eyes and wet eyelashes, Stiles seemed to have a new fire within. A new sense of purpose and duty. A mission. 

"Let's find Derek", the Prince demanded.


	4. The Prince meets the Stallion

They were back on the boat. Stiles wasn’t a big fan of it. It felt unstable with the waves, and it was much slower than flying on a dragon. The heat of the sun made it worth the sacrifice though. Stiles was glad to meet a world without raging winds and constant snow.

“My Prince is particularly quiet today”, Melisandre smiled softly as she appeared behind Stiles.

“I’m just thinking”, Stiles smiled back before he gestured at the red priestess to take a seat.

“May I ask what troubles your mind?”

“Just this. The sun, the warmth”, he admitted before he realized how silly that must sound. “Makes me think of home. I can’t imagine how miserable it must feel for everyone to go through such a long winter, knowing how good the sun feels on the skin. Knowing how good the summer is. Makes me want even more to defeat the Night King and bring back the warm summer to everyone.”

Melisandre smiled softly. “You have a warm heart, my Prince. A gift from the Lord of Light.”

“Sometimes I’m afraid you put too much faith in me”, Stiles sighed.

“Nonsense, my dear. Putting my faith in you is putting my faith in the Lord of Light. And there is no such thing as too much faith when it is guided towards the Lord of Light”, Melisandre smiled. “I can tell something about you is different, however. Since you exited the dragon’s den with the eggs.”

Stiles was silent for a moment. He felt it too. He just wasn’t sure how to describe it. “I just feel… motivated, I think.”

Melisandre looked at him unsure.

“Like… I’ve always felt pressured and powerless to fulfill the prophecies made about me. But when I exited the den with the eggs, I felt for the first time that things might really turn out okay. That I may one day be able to bring the dawn”, he tried to explain.

“None of us are born ready, my Prince. No matter our destiny, prophecy or not. Being destined for greatness doesn’t mean being born great”, she tried to tell him. “The prophecy might promise your success, but still there is a path you must follow in order to gain the skills necessary for the Great War.”

“How can I be certain of what path to take? How do I know I’m not taking a wrong step?”, Stiles asked in need of reassurance.

“Your path has brought you two dragon eggs already. And this is only the beginning. The Lord of Light guides you, my Prince. Have faith in yourself, in Him”, the red priestess begged. She looked at Stiles for a moment and her smile grew larger. “Come”, she invited. “Follow me.”

Stiles stood up from his seat and followed the woman to her small chamber in the ship. It was only big enough for a bed, a mirror, a chair and a big weird iron chalice which Melisandre always kept with wood or candles to keep a fire big and bright.

Melisandre threw a powder into the flames of the chalice and put her hands on Stiles’ shoulders. “Look into the fire. Let the Lord of Light show you the future. Look close and let the flames guide you.”

Stiles frowned at first, unsure what the flames could show him other than perhaps the prophecy he had already heard a million times. He still did as she suggested, and looked deep into the flames. Seconds passed and Stiles was already willing to give up, but then he saw something.

“It’s like… a fire. A big fire, as if a huge house is burning. But it’s not a house, it’s just a big pile of wood set ablaze. And people are watching in terror. So many people”, Stiles turned to Melisandre. “I don’t understand.”

“You will when the time comes. The Lord shows you what you need to know right now, my Prince”, she promised.

Stiles sighed, feeling as if this had been for nothing. Part of him wished he hadn’t even looked into the fire. He didn’t feel too confident about all those people he saw looking at the fire in terror.

 

***

 

They arrived at Qarkash, a rich city south of the Red Waste. There they sent a raven to King’s Landing to update Jon and Daenerys about their travel and plans. They had already told Stiles’ parents about the eggs. Daenerys in particular was excited to soon meet the new dragons. Her heart filled with joy at the idea of Stiles having dragons of his own to continue the Targaryen line and to keep the magical species alive.

At Qarkash, they left their ship on the port and bought horses and carriages and food for their way north to Vaes Dothrak where Bran had told Daenerys Khal Derek was. Such a journey proved to be long and harsh, particularly as they crossed the Red Waste. The air there was too dry, the sun too hot. Stiles had heard about how his mother had crossed the desert and how harsh it was, but it was worse than he expected.

Thankfully their journey wasn’t all through the Red Waste. And a week after they had left Qarkash, they saw what Tyrion told Stiles was called Mother of Mountains. A big mountain the Dothraki worshiped. A mountain often recognized as a symbol of Vaes Dothrak. Which meant they had arrived at their final destination.

“I guess it’s gonna be useful now that my mom has taught me Dothraki, uh?”, Stiles commented as they waited to be escorted to meet Derek.

 

***

 

The Dothraki stared at them in a way that made Stiles reconsider this whole idea. But he couldn’t back out now, because that would mean certain death for him and everyone else with him. Besides, he had promised his mother he would meet Derek.

Two Dothraki men opened the curtains to allow Stiles and his companions to enter the big yurt at the center of the Dothraki camp. The Prince’s instinct was to look around. He had never seen a yurt before. He barely knew all of King’s Landing. The Red Keep was the place he knew best. And he missed it terribly already. But as his eyes crossed at the middle, he saw him sitting across the empty space that separated them. Derek.

His hair was as dark as any other Dothraki native. His eyes were light, certainly taking after their mother Daenerys. His muscles were… intimidating at first sight. Then on second thought, Stiles was also jealous. Why hadn’t he been born with the genetics for such a muscular frame? Right, he was the Prince that was promised and he couldn’t be perfect so he had to be skinny. After a third look, Stiles was back to finding Derek’s frame purely intimidating to say the least. The guy could likely crush him with one hand, and the way he looked back at him made Stiles believe that could very easily happen at any second.

“T-Thank you for your… hospitality”, Stiles tried to say in Dothraki.

“We don’t get visits from foreigners. You are not welcome here”, Derek said cold and harsh. “What do you want?”

Stiles swallowed hard and took a deep breath. This was the tricky part. How could he introduce the matters that truly brought him here? At least without having a sword driven through his chest the next second. He had to adopt a different approach.

“I’ve heard of your accomplishments, Khal Derek”, Stiles was slowly easing into the Dothraki language again. He hadn’t used it in too long. “I’m on a mission to find the chosen one, and your victories have me believe you might be who I’m looking for.” Stiles felt on the verge of collapsing. He had no idea where he was going with this. He just hoped if there truly was a Lord of Light, please help him now. “I’m looking for… someone… immune to fire.”

Derek stared back at him as if he was the Khal’s most hateful enemy. At that point, Stiles only hoped it was nothing personal. Hopefully that’s just the way Derek looked at everyone and Stiles wasn’t going to get killed in the next ten seconds.

“How do you know I’m immune to fire?”, Derek huffed.

Stiles let that sink in. Derek was of the blood of the dragon as well. If there was any doubt Derek was Daenerys’ lost son, this solved it.

“I-I didn’t know you were immune to fire. I just hoped you might be”, Stiles forced a nervous smile.

“Now what?”, Derek grumbled like Stiles was boring him to death. Stiles didn’t want to do that.

“Hum… well…”, Stiles was trying to buy himself time with whatever empty words he could find. He felt so lost and had no idea how to advance in a conversation with Derek. Then it hit him. “I’ve come to ask for the honor of helping you in your mission.”

Tyrion and Varys turned to the Prince with uncertainty and disbelief. They weren’t sure this was going well. In fact they felt this was going terribly. Melisandre on the other hand looked so peaceful like she could be smiling at the most wonderful dream. Perhaps her faith in the Lord of Lord did come in handy in times like this. Stiles would be smiling too if he believed the Lord of Light was making sure things turned out okay.

Derek chuckled and the Dothraki warriors in the yurt followed with their own laughs too. “You? Help me? What can you do for me? You’re a walking stick. Probably can’t even pick up a sword.”

This must be the first time someone didn’t put their faith in Stiles. And for some sort of twisted reason, that made him feel good for a brief second. Instead of telling him he’d be the savior almighty, Derek actually asked how Stiles could do something useful. That was… different. But the fact that he had to give an actual answer had him petrified again.

There was a moment of silence, his brain trying at full speed to come up with something convincing. It took him a few long seconds to add two and two. But at least he knew now how he was going to negotiate. Stiles promised himself if this worked, he’d never doubt the Lord of Light again.

“If you are immune to fire it means you can hatch a dragon. I just so happen to have two dragon eggs with me. I’ll give you one.”

Varys and Tyrion petrified in horror. “What are you doing?”, Tyrion hissed as low as he could.

“Shut up”, Stiles simply warned. He had no other cards to use, and the more he thought of this the more sense it made to him.

Derek laughed again. “If you have two dragon eggs and I can hatch them, why don’t I just kill you and take both eggs?”

“Because you don’t know how to hatch them without me, and because you wouldn’t be able to raise a dragon without me”, Stiles answered readily.

Derek’s smile faded but his eyebrow raised in confusion. “And why is that? Why do you even know these things?”

Stiles hesitated at that, but he wasn’t going to lie and risk getting himself killed. “I’m a Targaryen. Son of Daenerys Targaryen. I’ve been raised along with dragons. I know all about them.”

Derek tilted his head with interest, but he wasn’t convinced. “What do you expect me to make of this?”, Derek asked flatly and blunt. He still had the upper hand after all. “You come into my camp, offer me a dragon. You want me to believe you want nothing in return?”

Tricky question. Stiles wasn’t going to speak the truth on that one. Not just yet. He couldn’t. But he also didn’t want to lie – a trait/flaw he must have inherited from his father Jon. So he had to keep things half-true. “I’m immune to fire too. I could hatch both dragons on my own. But I can’t raise two dragons. No one can. My mother had trouble enough with more than one dragon. Meaning one of them got killed and the other had to be passed to my father so the dragon wouldn’t be killed as easily as the first one”, Stiles explained. “I want dragons not to go extinct again. And if I can’t take care of two, I must give one of them to you. I will help you with the dragon. The dragon will eventually be big enough to help you with your mission of uniting the Dothraki people into one single Khalasar. And in return I get to raise my own dragon and prevent dragons from going extinct”, Stiles proposed.

Derek leaned back on his seat, considering the idea. There were many questions he wanted to clear up, but one thing above the others could prove whether the foreigner was speaking the truth or not.

Khal Derek stood up and Stiles swallowed thickly. Derek was even taller than he looked sitting down. Derek grabbed a torch and stopped in front of the Targaryen, looking down at him. “Prove you’re immune to fire”, Derek demanded.

Stiles would’ve sighed in relief, but he wouldn’t dare let his breath touch the Khal’s skin and make him even more furious than he already looked. Proving he was immune to fire was easy.

The Prince raised his hand and let it slip into the flames, feeling nothing but the fire’s heat. It didn’t hurt him one bit.

Derek saw how calm and confident Stiles looked now, and felt the obligation to prove he was immune to fire too. Without another word, Derek put his hand above Stiles’ and let the fire dance around his skin, unharmed, unburnt.

“Get them to a safe tent, do not harm them”, Derek demanded. “Leave the two of us alone”, he ordered to the remaining Dothraki present.

Varys and Tyrion were terrified for themselves and Stiles, but they were in no position to argue at the moment.

“Do not fear, my Prince. The Lord of Light watches over you”, Melisandre promised with a smile before she let the Dothraki men lead them out of the yurt.

Derek and Stiles were alone now. But for some reason Stiles didn’t feel as scared as before. Perhaps part of him, his subconscious, wanted to believe what Melisandre had promised.

“You and I have a few things to discuss”, Derek huffed flat and aggressive as any Dothraki.


	5. A bond of fire

"Are you out of your mind?", Tyrion jolted as soon as he saw Stiles join them in the tent. No Dothraki with them. Only Varys and Melisandre as the four of them were the foreigners.

Stiles threw a look at Tyrion. "Care to specify?"

Tyrion's lips parted in shock and he shook his head. "Uhm, where do I start? Maybe, are you seriously giving up one dragon before you even hatch it?"

"I had to negotiate and I had to use the only cards I have. You heard him. I'm skinny. And he'd kill all of us if he saw no use in us", Stiles tried to explain. He really didn't take it personally. Stiles had heard all about the Dothraki's way of life and he had gotten to meet a few his mother had brought with her to Westeros. Even after 16 years they were still ruthless and bold to say the least. "Besides, I meant what I said", Stiles added with a fire in his eyes that he had never had before. Not like this. "You saw him the same I did. He's unburnt like me and my mother. He's part Targaryen whether we like him or not."

"Every dragon needs a Targaryen. And every Targaryen needs a dragon or they are just like everybody else. That's what your mother says", Varys intervened calm and patient. 

Tyrion rolled his eyes and sighed. "And a dead Targaryen is as good as a dead dragon, isn't it? How long do you expect us all to live if Khal Derek even has the idea of killing you to take both dragons?"

"I know you're worried and scared. I was too as soon as we entered their camp", Stiles told Tyrion with patience, trying to understand the dwarf's side too. "I'm not scared anymore", he smiled gently. "You know why? Because even if he would kill me, I would still do the right thing. And the right thing is to honor his blood. And his blood makes him immune to fire, which makes him deserve a dragon. I've dreamed of my own dragon ever since I can remember. I know the feeling of being a Targaryen with no hope of having a dragon. It's worse than for most people who simply wonder about dragons. It's real for us Targaryen, because we actually have blood of the dragon. And I don't want Derek to feel the same way I have for years, when he finds out he's a Targaryen, I don't want him to look back with the realization that he had a birth right to one of the eggs", Stiles tried to explain.

"Birth right to one of the eggs? What else does he have a birth right to? The throne?", Tyrion asked with a sarcastic sigh.

"The throne is merely symbolic, Lord Tyrion. The Prince has the fire in his veins. The Prince is destined for greatness, with or without the Iron Throne", Melisandre intervened.

"You know it's not the same. And I meant what I said", Stiles insisted with Tyrion. "You know better than I do that my mother couldn't control three dragons, she couldn't control two. Viserion died with no rider. Drogon and Rhaegal survived as long as they had a rider", he pointed out. "And if anything happens to me, I know dragons won't die. I refuse to let dragons go extinct again. They didn't come back after 100 years just so they could be slaughtered in the Great War again. Dragons must live and thrive again", Stiles demanded.

"Fine", Tyrion huffed. Not that he agreed, but he realized he was on the losing side of the argument. As it happened most of the time. He simply gave up arguing. Now he just wanted to understand. "What's the plan, exactly? What did the two of you discuss?"

Stiles finally allowed himself to sit and relaxed his legs. "He's fulfilling his own prophecy without knowing it", Stiles told them as if in a whispered secret. 

"How do you mean?", Varys asked confused.

"My mother has spoken of this various times, don't you remember?", Stiles asked as he searched the others' faces in hopes that at least one of them remembered. But each of them looked as confused as the next one. And Stiles realized perhaps he had been the one to always pay his full attention to the stories of his mother's journey. "When my mother was pregnant with Rhaego, who we know now as Derek, the Dothraki had a prophecy. This prophecy stated the baby my mother carried would be the Stallion who mounts the world. If I remember correctly, this meant that Derek would unite all the Dothraki into one single Khalasar of his own rule."

"So what is he doing exactly?", Varys asked unsure.

"Derek has been conquering each Khalasar in Essos. He still has most to go, but it was impossible to be done at once", Stiles commented. "Derek told me about this earlier. He has united 6 Khalasars into his own. He has 14 more to go."

Tyrion looked at Melisandre and then Varys, trying to figure out if they were catching up. Because Tyrion certainly wasn't. "And this benefits us somehow?", Tyrion asked unsure and fishing for a more conclusive revelation. 

Stiles chuckled. "Don't you understand? He's uniting the Khalasars of the world. My mother brought her own Khalasar to Westeros 16 years ago. To fulfill his own prophecy, Derek will ride to the ends of the earth. Derek will eventually want to unite my mother's Khalasar with his own", Stiles explained.

Tyrion tensed in fury. "Are you mad? You're telling me Khal Derek will one day sail to battle with your mother's army and you're happy about that?!"

"Not sail for battle, Tyrion. Sail to unite the Dothraki", Stiles clarified. "If that sounds that bad for you, maybe you should reconsider your values. Because in my dictionary, uniting a people is a good thing. Besides, if Derek sails to Westeros with 19 Khalasars worth of Dothraki warriors and he's our ally, our chances of defeating the army of the dead for good increase massively."

Tyrion clenched his jaw and closed his fists. "How great it must feel to have God watching your back for the greater good. How great it must feel to always be righteous and never face the consequences of a mistake", the dwarf said more to himself. "You are son of your parents after all", he forced a smile and sat, giving up.

 

***

 

"One day he'll understand", Melisandre promised with a gentle tone as she came behind Stiles who was staring at the fire in the center of the big tent they had been assigned. 

"Will he?", Stiles asked with a frustrated sigh. "Even when I feel so sure and secure, there must be always someone doubting me. So either I doubt myself or someone else does."

"I have no doubt, my Prince", Melisandre smiled softly. "Lord Tyrion is unsure of the Lord of Light in the first place. How can we expect him to believe God's warrior if he doesn't believe God in the first place?"

Stiles turned to Melisandre. "I'm feeling different. Since I came out of Rhaegal's den", the Prince told the priestess with concern. "Like... I'm immune or something."

"Some could describe courage as the feeling of being immune", Melisandre noted wisely. "You're finally seeing the pieces in the Lord of Light's puzzle. It gives you hope and security. Makes you feel protected."

"So you agree with my decisions?", Stiles asked.

The red priestess smiled. "Not all of them, my Prince", she admitted. "I'm merely human, a servant of the Lord. Even I have trouble understanding every piece of the puzzle. But I trust each piece has a reason, and whether I understand it or not, it will eventually fall in the right place and complete the full picture."

Sometimes it scared Stiles how Melisandre's religious and almost cryptic advice could be more useful than Tyrion's rigid logic. But he couldn't hold it against the dwarf. He knew he only meant good. 

 

***

 

"You called for me?", Stiles asked after two Dothraki warriors led him to Khal Derek. 

The tall man stood up from his seat and gestured at the other Dothraki to leave their tent, making Stiles and Derek the only two inside. He walked around the fire at the center and stopped in front of Stiles. He looked down on him as if still evaluating him. Stiles wasn't exactly scared anymore, but he'd be a fool if he didn't feel intimidated at the very least. He was still shocked that any man could be that muscular and massive. Certainly those muscles were already used to making every man feel insecure. Every woman must look at him and feel themselves tingle with desire. 

"I was thinking about our conversation earlier and I realized you haven't told me how come we are both immune to fire", Derek huffed at Stiles' face. 

God, did the Dothraki always look this furious? It couldn't be good for their liver. The Dothraki back in Westeros had become a little softer, he guessed. Not that much though, now that he thought of it. 

"You saw the woman in red? The one that came with me? She's a priestess, a believer in the Lord of Light", Stiles explained. "There are prophecies about people who are destined to accomplish something. Her and the other red priests believe you and I are examples of such people. Destined for something", he went on as he tried his best effort to look Derek in the eyes without collapsing or shitting himself. "You are destined to unite all Dothraki into one single Khalasar. And I am destined to defeat the ice creatures that raise the dead and haunt my country", Stiles explained. 

Ice creatures? Dead? Derek wanted to laugh at such nonsense, but he had a more urgent question than Stiles' sanity. "And what does this have to do with us being immune to fire, both of us?"

Stiles couldn't answer that with the truth. Not just yet. Derek wasn't ready to know, so he had two options. Lie, or omit. Or a little bit of both. "I'm not sure. Maybe it's because of the Lord of Light, I don't know for sure", Stiles stuttered. "Does it matter?", he asked. "All I know is we can both hatch dragons because we are immune to fire."

No, it didn't matter to Derek. Not at that time, at least. Maybe he didn't need to understand everything. 

Derek had always been strong and ruthless, fierce and bold. His people had always worshiped him not only because of how strong of a warrior he was, but also because they had never met anyone strong enough to resist fire. And Derek had grown that way, never really questioning himself as to how or why he was immune to fire. Why he seemed to be the only one. But things were different now. He knew he wasn't the only one. And that was perhaps one of the main reasons as to why Derek wanted Stiles to stay. 

"You have strange beliefs", was all Derek said about the Lord of Light and the ice creatures and dead army. Stiles chuckled. Derek looked back at him with that same angry look and Stiles made an effort to contain his smile. Derek went back to his seat and Stiles followed on the tip of his toes as if to make sure his presence wasn't too inconvenient. 

"Do... we have an agreement?", Stiles asked to make sure.

"Agreement?", Derek asked with a confused frown. 

"Yeah... like... you let me raise my dragon here while I help you with yours", Stiles murmured. "And when the time comes for me to get back home to Westeros you can come with me", Stiles added.

"Why would I come with you to Westeros? I have no intention to cross the poison water", he grumbled. 

"Well... because there is a Dothraki Khalasar in Westeros. You must eventually go there if you want to fulfill your proph- your goal of uniting all Dothraki..."

Derek looked at Stiles as if evaluating him again. "A Khalasar in Westeros?"

Stiles nodded. 

That changes things. At least in the long term. "I'll let you raise your dragon here as you help me with mine. I'll keep you and your people well fed and protected", Derek promised. "But I won't make any promise about Westeros. Essos is my home. We'll talk about that when the time comes for you to leave", Khal Derek said firmly. He wouldn't even consider parting to Westeros if he hadn't even united every Khalasar in Essos first.

As much as Stiles would love to have everything figured out, he couldn't demand anything more right now. Security, food for him, his dragon and his followers was everything he could really ask for at the moment. The Prince nodded. They had an agreement. 

 

***

 

" _Dear mom and dad, I miss you already. I miss home despite the constant cold. I have so much I would like to tell you but the parchment only has so much space. I plan to keep you informed as often as I can. But for now, I guess all I need to tell you is I plan on staying in Essos for longer than I expected. I've met Derek and made an agreement with him. I've given him one of the dragon eggs, and in exchange he has promised us food and security while we both raise our dragons. As much as it pains me to stay away from home, I have to do this. For all I understand of dragons, it would be impossible to raise one during the winter. And I haven't had the chance to tell Derek about you, mom. I promise I will. I just need some time. I love you. Stiles._ "

 

When he finished writing, Stiles rolled the parchment and sealed it. And as if by magic they had known, Varys and Tyrion entered the tent. "You called for us, Your Grace?", Varys asked.

"Yes. Send this to my parents, will you?", Stiles smiled at Varys as he gave him the letter. The Spider bowed and turned to exit the tent. Tyrion followed before Stiles spoke again. "Not you, Tyrion. I'd like to speak to you."

Tyrion turned to the Prince and nodded. "I'm sorry if I offended you earlier", the dwarf said with respect. 

The Prince smiled softly. "I would be in even more trouble facing the Night King if I got offended when people spoke their minds", Stiles' smile grew wider. 

The Lannister looked at Stiles with confusion. What did he want to talk to him about then?

Stiles scratched his pants as if trying to find the words or even pondering, which got Tyrion even more worried. "Your Grace?"

Stiles looked up and curled his lips. "Tyrion... Melisandre said something to me earlier. Something about how she doesn't understand every piece of the puzzle, but she has to believe that eventually, even the pieces she doesn't understand will fit into the bigger picture and everything will make sense."

Tyrion considered himself an intelligent and eloquent man, but he seemed to have trouble following Stiles' line of thought. And that showed in his expression.

"You're a skeptic about the Lord of Light. And you're a man of logic. Which is preventing you from seeing what I must do in order to get where we all hope I'll get", Stiles wasn't sure if he was explaining himself or delaying his final decision. 

"You're punishing me for not believing in the Lord of Light?!", Tyrion huffed in disbelief. 

"No!", Stiles was quick to clear up. "All I'm saying is you're a man of logic, and at this point, very little runs on logic around here", he sighed. "Which is why I'm sending you and the guards back to King's Landing."

Tyrion tensed. He was still surprised how Stiles managed to make the most irrational decisions. 

"Your Grace--"

"I'm not mad at you, I swear", Stiles promised shaking his head. "I just think if the Dothraki or anyone in Essos ever want to kill us, there's very little you and fifteen guards can do to protect me. We'd all die anyway, so their protection is useless. And as much as I value your advice - even if you don't believe it - I think your council is more useful to my parents right now than to me. My path here is clear. Westeros needs you more", Stiles put his hand on Tyrion's shoulder.  

There was a moment of silence. Tyrion knew he didn't have much of a choice. He couldn't force his presence here. And as much as he wanted to advise the Prince, there wasn't much he could do if he wouldn't listen to him anyway. At the very least he did wish to be back home drinking as much wine as he wanted. And Jon and Daenerys did value his council more. He just knew this wasn't a happy ending. Stiles was walking a dangerous path, even if it didn't look like it right now. 

Tyrion took a deep breath and nodded. 

"I've arranged for you and the guards to leave by sunset. It'll be easier to cross the Red Waste during the night. At least part of it", Stiles smiled softly. 

 

***

 

The night had fallen and Tyrion and the guards had set off on their journey back to Westeros, leaving Stiles and Varys and Melisandre with the Dothraki. About an hour after they had left, Stiles was filled with a certain degree of doubt. Part of him wondered if he should've kept all the help his parents had sent with him. Another part of him wanted to believe he had chosen right. Back in Westeros he always had his parents' support and guidance. Out here he was thrown into the real world, even with Varys and Melisandre. Even if Tyrion was still here, ultimately Stiles had to make his own decisions. If he could find any sort of comfort in being the Prince that was promised, he had to trust himself at the very least. 

Melisandre entered the tent, finding the Prince lying on his stomach, chin resting on his crossed arms as he stared at the dragon egg he had kept for himself. He seemed to be roaming in his thoughts so deeply he hadn't even heard Melisandre come in. "Everything is ready, my Prince. Khal Derek awaits."

Stiles looked towards the priestess and nodded. He knew he shouldn't be nervous, he had dreamed of this for years. But he was nervous. Very much so. The Prince took a deep breath and stood up. He looked at the fire and back at the dragon egg. He picked it up and walked out of the tent, holding the egg under his arm. The night was deep, and to his own surprise it still wasn't as dark as the nights in Westeros during winter. Here they had the stars and the moon. The full moon. 

The Prince felt everybody's eyes on him. It looked like hundreds of Dothraki at first, but as he walked further and further he realized it was thousands of men and women, and children. They had their eyes glued on the Prince as he walked through the path open between the crowds, leading him to the center of their camp. Stiles' heart was racing, and it raced even more when he saw Derek standing by the biggest pile of wood Stiles had ever seen. It must have been put there during the afternoon, but there were so many trunks and so many trees, it must have taken at least half the Khalasar to cut down and carry that much wood to the pile in one afternoon. The best way Stiles had to describe such a massive pile of wood would be to compare its height to the walls of Winterfell, and likely as broad and long as the Throne room at the Red Keep. 

Derek had his own egg with him too. Stiles had given it to him earlier that day. The Prince joined the Khal and swallowed thickly, turning to face everyone present. The entire Khalasar Derek had brought together by conquering over 6 individual Khalasars already. Thousands of Dothraki people, all staring at them. 

"We stand tonight as we have stood for the past years", Derek shouted. Stiles jolted and struggled to keep his posture. He'd heard Derek's voice before, but not with this much power to it. "Together. One Khalasar", he added. "We know fire for destruction. We know fire for its power. Yet even fire cannot harm me", the Khal went on. "It cannot hurt me, nor him", he pointed at Stiles. "Tonight, we let the fire not only not harm us, we let the fire bring dragons to life!", he shouted again. "We let fire unite us over the life of dragons!"

The people shouted and screamed with confidence and passion for their Khal. Melisandre lowered the torch in her hand and set the pile of wood on fire, letting it spread from one side of the pyre to the other. Stiles felt it grow behind his back, the heat growing furiously. The people watched marveled and scared. Then he remembered. This was the vision he had from the fire when they were still on their trip on the ship. The Lord of Light had shown him this. This was right, this was the path. Stiles inhaled the hot air and let it fill him with confidence. He would never again doubt himself. He would never again lose faith in the Lord of Light.

The stars and the moon were bright, yet the fire behind them was so strong it made the stars and moon look small and weak in comparison. 

"Tonight, let Stiles and his people become part of us!", Derek shouted. "Let Stiles and his people become our family, welcome them as we have welcomed our brothers and sisters from every Khalasar!", Derek demanded from his people. Some of them fell to their knees and praised their Khal and the Gods. They praised and obeyed, for their Khal was the Stallion. 

Derek looked at Stiles and Stiles looked back at him with a soft nod. Both turned around and faced the fire. It wouldn't harm them. Both walked and disappeared into the flames along with their dragon eggs. The people's screams and prayers filled the camp, only muffled by the loud cracks and crisps of the massive pile of wood and fire burning through the night. 

 

***

 

Varys woke up with the first light of day hitting his face through a crack on the tent. He rushed to get up. There was no sound. Not even the smallest breeze of air. But the scent of smoke was strong enough to almost make it impossible for him to breathe. He walked out of the tent slowly, as if expecting to find everyone else dead. But no one looked dead. They were sitting, some of them on their knees, others lying down. Many of them still asleep. 

The Spider walked through the Dothraki people until he reached the front line around the place where the pyre had been burning all night. Nearly all the wood had been reduced to coal and ash. Some of it was still burning on the edges. But there was so much ash and coal he couldn't see anything. He didn't see Stiles nor Khal Derek. 

Then a chunk of burning wood collapsed, the impact of it sending a cloud of ashes to the air. Half the people trembled at the loud noise it made. As the ashes started falling down like snow, Varys saw something move. A figure that looked like a statue, given how still it was and the color of ash covering it. It took him a moment to realize he was staring at his Prince. The ashes kept falling down, clearing the air and slowly revealing more of Stiles. Next to him, Derek rose up. Both stood proud and strong. Both had been unharmed by the fire, but it had reduced their clothes into nothing. Both Stiles and Derek stood naked and unashamed, looking back at the Dothraki people who were waking up and rising up on their feet, dozens at a time trying to take a better look at what was happening. And as they saw and understood, they fell back on their knees and bowed before Derek and Stiles. 

The ashes fell completely, and with the clear air, their sight was clear too. Stiles and Derek were covered in ashes and coal. A baby dragon clung to Stiles' hand in front of his waist, covering his cock. His dragon was grey like stone or the ashes that stuck to his hair. By his side, Derek stood tall and strong, hands on each side of his body and his cock and balls hanging heavy between his legs. A dragon climbed up from behind him to stand on his shoulder. His dragon was black like his hair or the very coal that surrounded them. Stiles' dragon leaned forward and let out a shrill grunt as if to establish itself into existence. Derek's dragon followed, spreading its wings to feel the air move around him as he grunted too. Their grunts cutting through the air.

History repeated itself - Stiles and Derek rising up with their dragons as Daenerys had risen from the fire so many years ago. But this time neither Targaryen was alone. Stiles and Derek were together. They had bonded over fire, by the birth of their dragons. The Prince and the Stallion.


	6. Raemar and Daegor

Stiles put his dragon on the bed made of hay and fur. Still naked, he couldn’t help but lean down to take a closer look and admire the baby dragon.

“Are you real? Am I dreaming?”, Stiles whispered. The baby dragon tilted its head and looked back at Stiles, not understanding one word. Stiles smiled, a chill down his spine. This was real. He had a dragon of his own. He wouldn’t be able to explain it even if someone asked him to, but he loved his dragon already.

The Prince stood back on his feet and got dressed in more summer clothes his mother had sent with him when he sailed from King’s Landing. Feeling himself in light fabrics was new to him, still made him feel weird given he had been born and raised during the winter. He turned to look himself in the small mirror, but gave up that idea as he crossed his eyes over the pins Daenerys had sent. Dragons carved out of dragon glass. This was likely the most perfect time to give Derek his pin. Really, there was never going to be a more perfect time. But he had no way of giving it to the Khal without explaining to him who had given them and why. And it didn’t feel right to give Derek his pin without telling him about their mother. And Derek wasn’t ready for that just yet. Stiles wasn’t sure he was ready either. Maybe neither of them were ready.

The little dragon whined and called for Stiles’ attention.

“You must be hungry”, Stiles realized. He quickly put the pins back in his bag and extended his hand before the dragon climbed on it. “Let’s help Derek with your brother”, Stiles smiled before he exited his tent.

There were many less people on the streets now. He walked further and saw a handful of people cleaning up the ashes and coal from the fire where Derek and him had hatched their dragons. Everyone else seemed to be back to their normal lives. But there was little degree of normal in the sight of a dragon, and some people stared with wonder and curiosity. Some still had a clear expression of doubt towards the Prince. He was a foreigner after all. A foreigner who had brought dragons to their Khalasar.

Stiles was allowed in Derek’s tent by the two blood riders at the entrance. To his surprise, Derek was still very naked. Well, Stiles figured if he was as massively sculpted and hung like the Khal, maybe he’d take pride in being naked that much too. Yeah, he was stealing a glimpse of Derek’s cock. That thing must’ve killed someone already.

Both dragons looked at each other and greeted with a low grunt, getting Stiles’ attention to turn to the black dragon in Derek’s arms. “How are you doing?”, Stiles asked the Khal.

“I can’t take my eyes off of him”, Derek admitted.

“I know, me too”, Stiles smiled. The dragons grunted again. “I think they’re hungry. We’ve got to feed them.”

Derek looked up from his dragon and turned to the Prince. “How do we do it?”

“Hum… you should put some clothes on so we can go outside. It’s safer to teach you outside”, Stiles curled his lip and he might have blushed slightly. At least he did feel his cheeks get warm.

The Khal raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have to get dressed to go outside”, he pointed out as if that was a lesson Stiles should know since he was born.

“Hum… you don’t?”, Stiles asked unsure.

“No. I don’t like clothes too much. Most people don’t. That’s why we stick to the essential and don’t get clothes too thick. Besides, I like being naked”, Derek explained very casually.

“Clearly”, Stiles bit the inside of his cheeks to hold himself back from smiling.

The Khal stood up and lead the way out of the tent with his dragon. Stiles followed, eyes glued to Derek’s ass for at least two delicious seconds. By the Gods, did Derek have any body part that wasn’t massively perfect?

“So, teach me”, Derek demanded as they walked.

Stiles sort of looked around, expecting anyone to look at Derek’s naked body with some sort of confusion as if it wasn’t supposed to happen without facing at least the smallest bit of disapproval from someone. But he was proved wrong. He saw people looking their way, but no one stared for more than the second it took for them to look away unfazed. So nudity was that normal here.

“Okay, so…”, Stiles tiptoed to grab a chunk of coal and set it away from the spot some people were cleaning. The Prince knelt and held his dragon in his hand, moving him towards the coal. He looked up at Derek’s knees and realized he was kneeling in front of a very naked Derek. He didn’t dare look further up. He refused to shame himself. “So, there is a specific word we must speak when we want our dragon to spit fire. Like this”, Stiles leaned his dragon further towards the coal.

For a brief few seconds Stiles was almost scared his dragon might not obey, or he might not do it right. He swallowed thickly and reminded himself he was a Targaryen. He didn’t have to be scared of his own nature, of his own magic.

“Dracarys”, Stiles tried as he felt his body get warm, as if fire ran through him before it reached the baby dragon in his hand. At the sound of the Prince’s command, the grey dragon extended his neck and spit fire for the very first time, heating up the coal so quickly one side of it was catching fire already. Stiles marveled with pride. He innocently looked up, eyes crossing Derek’s cock for a second too long. “Now you try it”, he ignored the heat on his cheeks.

Derek leaned down, face to face with Stiles – Stiles who thanked the Gods that he could look the Khal in the eyes now without staring at his cock.

The Khal held his own dragon towards the coal and repeated. “Dracarys.” A flame small but powerful shot out of the black dragon’s mouth and set the rest of the coal on fire. Derek even smiled a little. At least Stiles thought that was a smile. Or an itch on the corner of the man’s lips.

“Now they can feed themselves by using fire”, Stiles said.

“But we always have to use the word?”, Derek asked.

“Well, they can spit fire without us using the word. We only use the word when we need or want them to spit fire with a purpose”, he tried to explain from all he had learned from his parents with Drogon and Rhaegal.

Derek didn’t answer, but Stiles figured that must mean he understood.

“They’re still little though, so it’s best if we can provide them with meat each day. When they’re older they’ll likely hunt on their own”, Stiles added.

“We have enough sheep and goats and pigs and chicken and everything. We can give them the meat they need”, Derek thought out loud.

For a moment, Stiles couldn’t help but think Derek made it seem like the Dothraki started to have more here than they had back in Westeros. Winter was running so long. Resources would eventually run out if he didn’t bring the dawn soon enough. He was very happy, but he wouldn’t forget his duty, his home, his country.

Derek demanded a goat be killed and prepared for them to feed both dragons.

 

***

 

“ _Dear son, I’m thinking about you each and every day. I find comfort knowing you’re with people we know and trust. I understand it will take time to get to know Derek before he can understand our side of the story. I do not ask you to rush anything, especially if you plan on staying for longer. Please stay safe, my dear. But remember, if ever you are in danger or need me, I will fly there and help you in a heartbeat. Dad misses you too. We love you now and always. Daenerys.”_

Stiles read his mother’s letter and looked at his dragon sitting on top of the small wooden table. “She’ll be so happy when I tell her about you.”

_“Mom. Dad. I miss you just as much, believe me. And just like before, I wish the parchment was bigger so I could tell you more. I’ll have to summarize. Derek and I are getting along. He’s not that scary anymore. I’m really happy. We’ve hatched the eggs, just like you mom. Mine is grey and his is black. We’ve made them spit fire for the first time. Things are falling into place. But I haven’t forgotten. I promise I will tell Derek when the time is right. I miss you. I know time will pass quickly. In no time I’ll be back home with a large dragon. Until then, I miss you both so much. Stiles.”_

The Prince wrote and gave Varys the letter to send back to King’s Landing. He took another look at his dragon and realized he hadn’t given him a name yet. Derek probably hadn’t either.

He put the baby dragon on his shoulder and visited Khal Derek’s tent. To his own surprise, Derek had some clothes on. From the waist down at least. The black dragon rested by the fire at the center, for a brief second reminding Stiles of Drogon sleeping by the fire at the Dragon Pit. One day their dragons would grow up to be as big and massive as Drogon. Hopefully by then winter would be over, and the Night King had been defeated. And, hopefully, he would be alive to tell the tale.

Stiles’ dragon flapped its wings and joined the black one by the fire. Both dragons rubbed each other’s muzzles and grunted low before they moved into the flames of the fire at the center, letting themselves be caressed by the flames that did nothing to them except make them warm.

“You hungry? It’s almost dinner time”, Derek cut the silence after they both watched the dragons in awe.

Stiles turned to the Khal and nodded. “Yeah, I could eat. But I was actually thinking we should name the dragons”, he admitted.

“What names do dragons have?”, Derek asked. He had never dealt with dragons before.

“Well, I’ve heard of a few”, Stiles murmured. “Balerion, Rhaegal, Drogon, Viserion.”

Derek wasn’t sure that helped him name his own dragon. He didn’t just want to use the same name.

Stiles noted it in Derek’s expression, and he went on. “Dragons can be named after someone who is important to us, for example. Or someone we admire. Years ago I read books about Valyria. A culture that raised dragons like ours. I read about their history and how there was a hero names Raema”, Stiles sat on the wooden bench by the entrance. “I’ll name my dragon Raemar, in honor of the Valyrian hero.”

Derek was intrigued. He didn’t know there had been a dragon culture like that.

“Is there anyone you admire, or someone important to you?”, Stiles asked softly.

“Of course. Daego”, Derek walked past the dragons in the flames and sat next to Stiles. “He’s the man that raised me.”

Stiles swallowed thickly, throat getting dry in seconds. “You haven’t told me about your family”, he tested.

“Daego raised me. He found me near the Mother of Mountains.”

“So he wasn’t your father?”

“He was my father!”, Derek huffed. “To me, he was.”

“I understand”, Stiles assured.

“He found me, left to die. But he took me and raised me like his own. He died when I was twelve”, Derek explained.

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand how someone could leave a baby do die like that”, Stiles murmured.

“I don’t know. And it doesn’t matter. I’m not that baby anymore”, the Khal made clear.

“I understand”, Stiles simply promised. He knew the other side of the story. A side he wanted to tell Derek, but this wasn’t the right time yet. He felt guilty still.

“I shall name my dragon Daegor, in honor of Daego”, Derek declared.

Stiles may or may not have felt a chill down his spine with how rough Derek sounded.

“They have names then. Raemar and Daegor”, Stiles smiled at Derek.

Derek looked back, stomach empty. “Let’s eat.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know yet how long this story will be. I know that I want to explore some loose ends I've picked on the show and I'd love it if you guys could give me your feedback. Let me know what characters from either Game of Thrones and/or Teen Wolf you want me to explore in this FanFic. Let me know if there are any possible plots you wanted to see developed on the show but they weren't. Let me know what you'd like to see on future chapters.


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